Mistaken
by Mordachai
Summary: A homeless teenage theif encounters the Teen Titans and has no intention of staying caught.


Author's Notes:

Thank you, everyone, who poked and prodded me about this story. You gave me the encouragement I needed to take up this project again. This is a mild re-edit of the first chapter, for spelling, grammar, and plot corrections. A special thanks to V for pointing out the flaws in my story and making me rewrite it. The story is much better for it.

This was written in Jer's Novel Writer.

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Food.

Miles and miles of it.

More food than Byron Ashby could ever eat in a year lay at his fingertips.

So hungry.

Almost a week since the last memorable meal.

His arm instinctively reached out to the topmost pear of the pile. Just one would be enough.

On the other side, a pile of shiny red apples. Tangy oranges. Delicious papayas. Tasty dates. Strength giving foods. He salivated without even realizing.

Classical music piped in from overhead speakers did little to dissuade him from his next action. No one would expect or even notice just one small item to go missing. No, not just one. Maybe even two. If good enough an entire bushel could just go out with him. Maybe some bread too. Milk perhaps.

The growling stomach urged. There Byron stood in the isles of the SmartMart. A store in a chain of grocery stores that he'd hit over the years. This store, completed only a week ago, would look nicely in his already impressive resume of food lifting.

Standing all of four feet six inches of deep tan skin, short black curly hair, and an almost nervous stature, Byron looked the part of a starved homeless kid. A long overcoat covered his bony body with the help of a thick belt. His sleeves covered his hands and any food that accidentally found its way there.

He picked up a pear, freshly cleansed by the spray system. Oh how it shone to him. Pure beauty to his longing eyes and mouth. He took a step closer to the pile and leaned up to place the pear back on the top while taking his victim with the other hand. Down it disappeared into his overcoat to one of the inside pockets. He moved to the next pile, the apples...

Once finished with the fruit section, he maneuvered his way to the meat. Byron deemed raw meat worthless unless he had a way to cook it. Without a home this proved hard. Almost as good with none of the effort, however, were the snack pack singles Byron deftly made disappear into his overcoat of plenty.

Milk came to him almost as easy. Almost. A passerbuyer eyed him in such a way he abandoned the creamy goodness of milk. Better to pass up dangerous food and steal on another day than to be caught and be forced to go back to the home. Lifting food for the bare essentials was infinitely better than that.

Bread left the shelf as easy as the fruit. Though the antitheft tag embedded in the thin plastic took more time to remove than Byron wanted. Walking through the exit scanners installed at every entranceway would send one or two unwanted pigs towards him with a quickness.

But they wouldn't be. Neither the fruit nor the meat snack packs held the antitheft tags as far as he knew. The bottom line meant too much to those companies to add 11 cents for every item. Byron walked confidently to the door he'd entered the store with. He passed by the busy shoppers and cashiers. Byron picked the best time for these lifting sprees: Sundays right after church. Managers jumped at every tiny request to keep the customers happy. Byron was very happy. A few more feet he'd be scott free.

Threefeet.

Two feet.

A foot towards the door.

"DAMNIT!"

As Byron entered the security scan, short, energetic blasts echoed through the bustling store. The entire front end of the SmartMart froze. Angry red alarm lights blinked furiously around the door. Byron's foot tasted the free, unair-conditioned outside.

The homeless thief bolted. Before the automatic door had time to shut and lock, Byron was gone. He huffed it out of the parking lot, headed towards the inner city. Not anywhere near 'home', but would be enough to keep the police off of him. The inner city was a honeycomb of places to hide until the heat went off him.

But first food. Mid run, Byron pulled out his apple. Only half a block from the SmartMart he needed the energy. He bit hard into the apple, the juices ran down his face. It tasted so good! All but the core remained after the next few bites. That went down as well.

Waste not.

White - Blue - White - Blue - Lights flashed from behind. The police must've been waiting nearby. That means someone was on to him while he was in the store.

"Freeze!" the distinctive voice of a female officer yelled through the microphone of her squad car. Her partner in the passenger seat looked as if about to open the door and pursue the chase on foot.

"Hell no!" Byron responded by speeding up and hanging a left at the next corner. He tore down the sidewalk and dodged the cute couple on his left, the old lady to his right, and a group of odd people in the middle of the sidewalk. He ducked to the left and nearly passed them when the squad car turned the corner. Byron glanced as well as he could through the group of six towards the police car. The passenger seat was empty. The partner was after him on foot now.

"This is the police. Stop running and put your hands behind your head!" The female officer ordered into the microphone.

'I can get a little farther...' he thought to himself. 'A few more blocks. Enough where they will separate. Then I can disappear.' Byron willed his starved body forward and he shot past the group of five young superheroes.

"Who's turn is it?" Beast Boy laughed and pointed at the thief.

"It's not mine. I had the last one." Cyborg snorted.

"I'll take him!" Robin said with joy in his face. A chase. Finally.

"Would you like any assistance?" Starfire offered hopeful.

"I'll be alright. He's a small fry. I'll find you guys later." and Robin was off.

Byron flew as fast as his legs could carry him. Down alleyways and through several restaurants. Anything and everything to lose the police. With a few minutes, Byron found himself on one of the busiest streets in the city. As he moved through the crowded mass of humanity, he slowed and did his best to blend in. Anyone following should be discouraged by now, he reasoned.

His body, starved and exhausted, screamed for nutrition. Checking one last time to ensure he wasn't being tailed, the young thief ducked down a shallow alley. He crouched behind the far side of a dumpster. The thief relaxed as he cautiously examined the wide street, crosswalks, and sidewalks. No one followed and the high chain fence at the end of the alley protected his flank.. Byron's mouth watered as he produced the bread from his overcoat. He tore at the thin plastic and the first three slices of bread vanished in the blink of an eye. Gasping, he brought out the pear. His dirty fingers caressed the light green skin.

Byron brought the hard won food to his mouth and closed his eyes to savor the sweet, crisp sensation.

POW

Byron saw stars as Robin's kick connected with Byron's shoulder and slammed Byron's head into the dumpster. The pear jumped from his hand and skipped down they alley.

Robin jumped back from Byron. His eyes glanced down and considered the thief and his stolen pear.

"You. You only stole food?" Robin's confidence stance towered over Byron as he waited for an answer.

Byron tasted the blood that flowed from his lip. His legs shook as brought himself to a stand, a look of contempt towards the superhero.

"Bread. Meat. Some fruit. I swear that's all" he sputtered and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He needed an exit.

"There's nothing worse than someone with your best intentions in mind." Byron thought. "Especially superpersons" Byron put up a defensive stance and edged away from the boy wonder.

"It's just food." Byron reiterated and waited for his opportune moment. WIth so many cars going by it was somewhat hard to tell. Probably after the puke green bug making its way down the road. A slight break in traffic.

"If that's all you took, explain why you're about to run." Robin readied.

"I ain't no fighter and you socked me good?" Byron flung the open bag of bread at Robin and bolted into the four lanes of unsuspecting traffic. Tires screeched as nearly every driver frantically slammed the break. Using the bug's hood, Byron vaulted himself onto the roof of a brown suburban. The awful crunching sound of a twelve car pileup could be heard as Byron sprinted towards the relative safety of a nearby, 12 story, parking deck. Byron could lose the superhero in there. He'd done it before.

Robin, appeared several cars ahead of Byron and crouched hood of a badly beaten blue Oldsmobile Cutlas. It's owner, still seated in the driver's seat, looked surprised at Robin. It wasn't every day a superhero uses your vehicle as a landing pad. Byron skidded to a halt. The Oldsmobile lay between him and the parking deck.

"Give up." Robin ordered, "We can talk about this. I'm sure we can find someone who can help you."

"I'd really rather not" Byron stepped back. And again.

Robin hopped down from the Oldsmobile and walked cautiously towards Byron. "Come on. I won't hurt you." Robin said, he talked as if approaching a wounded dog. Robin showed his empty hands, palms forward.

"Couldn't just beat me up or somethin? Would an 'I'm sorry, I'll never do it again' help?" A lie, to be sure. Byron's eyes darted every which way for an escape. He listened intently to the angry shouting growing from behind.

Robin frowned. "What is so bad that you don't want help? What are you running from?"

A bright yellow Camaro, flung at high speeds, effectively ended their conversation. It sailed wide and cartwheeled past Byron and Robin before finally coming to a comfortable stop inside the lobby. Glass and debris littered the street in front of the bank.

"What the...?" was all Robin could mutter before a large, meaty hand clamped around Byron's neck.

"mMMmmmYYyyyy CAaaaarrrrrRRRRrrrr!!!!" Something vaguely human bellowed at Byron. As if Byron weighed nothing, what Byron could only assume was an angry motorist hefted Byron over its head.

Veins and muscles bulged in inconceivable and unnatural ways on the form that held Byron aloft. Man or woman, Byron could not fathom. At at least 7 foot, the motorist looked as if it ate champion body builders for breakfast. Its face channeled pure, unfathomable, rage and hatred.

"I srry?" Byron choked.

The last thing Byron felt before he blacked out was the sudden feeling of flying.


End file.
